


Princesita

by GuileandGall



Series: Violaceous Fury [9]
Category: Saints Row
Genre: Childhood, Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2014-06-04
Packaged: 2018-02-03 09:17:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1739360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuileandGall/pseuds/GuileandGall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A memory from Furia's childhood, a pair of her most vibrant memories of her father, Martin Guerrero</p>
            </blockquote>





	Princesita

**Princesita**

**-1-**

"Princesita.," Martin stooped and crooked a finger when the little girl turned. A huge toothless grin lit her face just before she darted toward him.

"Papa!"

He embraced her tightly burying his face in her shoulder. "Did you get in a fight?"he asked pinching her chin.

"No," she giggled, "but the tooth fairy brought me a dollar."

He gasped. "A whole dollar? Caramba. What are you going to do with all that money?"

His daughter's eyes moved left then right, he copied the action. Then she bent, cupping both her tiny hands around his ear. "Yayo bought me a purse. It has a secret pocket. I hid it because last time Memo are my nickel," she said in a huff, crossing her thin arms over her chest.

He chuckled lightly at her, brushing the wavy locks out of her face. "Were you good?"

The way Soledad tilted her head when she propped her hand on her hip always made him laugh. "I'm the oldest." Her head snapped quickly when she heard the music change. "Papa," she said grabbing his collar. "Please, can we?"

"You remember how?" The last time he'd been home she wanted to dance like her mama, but she just couldn't catch the steps.

"Por supuesto. I've been practicing."

Her tone made him hug her a little tighter. Martin Guerrero knew even then that Soledad was ferocious. Too much fire in one little girl, even at five.

He set her on her feet at the edge of where everyone was dancing. Kneeling on the ground he held his hand out to her like he told her a gentleman should, and she accepted as was the privilege of any young lady. He stood holding both her hands. She had been practicing. She did not miss a beat. So he twirled her, smiling wider at the giggle the rose from a monochromatic mix of long black hair and a mountain of pristine white ruffles and lace.

Soledad may have missed a step here or there, but he only knew when he saw her bite her lip in concentration. Each time he would raise her hand over her head and spin her again, eliciting a carefree giggle. As the music sped up, he scooped her up into his arms again. Holding her hand, as he danced them around the edge then dipped her. She came up chuckling and wrapped her arms tight around his neck.

"Te amo, Papa."

"Mi princesita, mi tesoro."

She blushed and laid her head on his shoulder as he carried her though another dance, just because he could. He had three days home then he would be back out on the water. Martin hated being gone so much, hated seeing his family grow in snapshots and huge increments. Of course, it was little moments like this that made it worth it. The big-eyed bright smiles, the warm hugs--sometimes they almost made the separation easier to take.

 

**-2-**

Soledad sat next to the window, kicking her new purse with her white patent leather shoe. When Memo tried to crawl across her again, she pushed him back in his spot, just a little harder this time. Stretching her neck a little she peeked out the window. Papa and Mama were talking again. He shook both his hands at her then gestured toward the boats.

The girl agreed with Mama--she did not like the boats either. She kicked her purse again watching it flop against her foot. When the car door slammed she looked up. It was like all the times. Mama was sad again and Papa was gone.

Holding onto the side of the door she peeked again. That was the same too--the hands tossed into the air, the shake of the head, the mad sad look on his face when Yayo turned the car away.

Chewing at the inside of her cheek, Soledad leaned back in the seat, crossing her arms over her chest. She didn't look at Mama, she didn't want to look at anyone. It wasn't fair. She was extra good, even kept their room clean even if Memo found it funny to throw something else on the floor just to watch her put it back. She didn't even get anything on her new dress.

Her brother grabbed at the little bag and tugged the strap. Soledad pulled it back. Like anytime she took something of hers back from him, the bottom lip quivered and he screamed. With another sigh her shoulders slumped, waiting.

"Ay, mijo," Mama cooed and pulled him into the front seat. "What's the matter?"

_Weasel_ , Soledad thought when he pointed at her.

"Soledad." It was a question, a reprimand, and a request to behave all wrapped in one--it was a tone she knew all too well.

"He tried to take my …" she murmured, not even bothering to finish. She kicked her feet letting them bounce off the back of Yayo's seat.

Her mother's hand stilled her feet. "Sit up. And stop picking on your brother."

"Yes, Mama."


End file.
